One or two of the tables were occupied by groups of fat frowzy women in flat caps, with rings on their thumbs, and baskets by their sides; and no one who had listened for a single moment to their coarse language and violent abuse of each other, would require to be told they were fish-wives from Billingsgate. You do not know him. She knew the story only imperfectly, and followed it now with a passionate and deepening interest. Lucy was sent reeling into a stone wall, which she hit with a great thud. ‘Go then.
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